


Wonder Feeling

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving to a new place was never easy, but something just wasn't right. Your home was cozy, but simultaneously unsettling.</p><p>(Napstablook "haunts" the reader. Antics ensue. Reader is of ambiguous gender, and when referred to, they is used.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since you moved into this place, you could feel something wasn’t quite right. When the fan was up on maximum, it would shake, and you feared it would fall on you when you slept. When the wind blew the trees outside the windows clattered. You often heard a mysterious clicking you couldn’t pinpoint.

Yet, none of these things revealed themselves as the source of your slight discomfort. A quaint cabin in a mountain town of one-hundred didn’t exactly seem like a place where things would go horribly, horribly wrong.  
Your cabin was raised above ground to prevent snow-ins. It was small, but of perfect size for just one person. You had a kitchen, a bathroom-slash-laundry-room, a common room with a television, and a bedroom. The latter was furnished with a cozy fireplace and yet another television. You wondered whose bright idea it was to have two televisions in a dwelling meant for one. 

Nonetheless, you enjoyed living in a small town for a change. You were enrolled in online classes from a state university, which you toiled to complete with the slow rural internet connection. Other than occasionally volunteering to help shovel snow when a storm passed through overnight, that was your full-time occupation. You had a weather widget installed on your desktop to gauge whether or not to bring a coat that day. (Most days, it was below freezing, so you wagered it was pointless, but you weren’t one for change.)

This particular morning, the discomfort weighed on you as you cleared snow from the wooden steps of your home. Even after a month and some time, you weren’t accustomed to seeing snow on the ground all the time. One of your neighbours waved at you, and you reciprocated. You saw your breath materialise as you shouted a hello at them. You weren’t good at making friends, but your neighbours seemed nice enough. Maybe one day you’d be able to make a friend or two. After all, there were only a hundred-something people living there. You wouldn’t be alone forever.

You shut the door behind you and frowned, realising you had forgotten your doormat in the washer, and subsequently tracked snow all over the entrance. You had been too exhausted the night before to get your laundry from the machine and had flopped into bed. Sleeping had become harder since you had moved here - the only caveat, it seemed. Something was just unsettling. 

You trudged to your bed while removing your boots, and sat, gazing out the window. The view from your window was purely forest, which you didn’t mind. You often saw small forest animals venture into the snow for food. It filled you with a warm feeling. Other days, when the snow blanketed the trees and the mountains in the distance were blocked out, you simply watched the flakes tumble, brushed by the wind. It was oddly relaxing. 

Nothing of interest could be seen from the window, so you decided to head to the kitchen to prepare yourself some breakfast. You had a lot of work to be done for school as of late, and the mornings were your only solace from the clutches of class. Being a full-time student wasn’t easy, but you supposed it was worth it. You pondered over this as you prepared pancakes on the stove, and hot chocolate from your one-cup coffee machine. 

Once your pancakes were cooked golden brown and your hot chocolate piping hot, you set everything on the table and began to feast. You shuffled around the kitchen to find utensils, napkins, and marshmallows. You refused to drink hot chocolate without marshmallows. Hot chocolate without marshmallows was an insult to hot chocolate everywhere.

You were pretty certain you had a coffee allergy of sorts. Coffee and you didn’t belong in the same sentence. Tea didn’t do anything for you either, so by high school you had settled for hot chocolate every morning. Even when you moved from that bustling city and that tiresome family, you made sure you always had hot chocolate handy. The lack of hot chocolate was not the problem. You finished your breakfast and rinsed the dishes, but your mug was still half-full of hot chocolate. You forgot about it as you went about folding your laundry and typing your next greatly bullshitted essay.

At noon, you rose from the desk in your bedroom and stretched your aching limbs. Your essay was finished, but your stomach was empty. You shuffled to the kitchen once more to prepare lunch, but you immediately were taken aback by something. The forgotten mug of hot chocolate was tipped over, the sweet beverage dripping over the edge of your table, as if someone had just been there. Panicked, you reached for the broom sitting next to your garbage can and poised it, ready to attack whomever was there. Your heart raced as adrenaline entered your system. You were on full guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> I'm not sure what kind of AU this takes place in. Presumably after the monsters have been freed and assimilated into surface life.


	2. Chapter 2

The hot chocolate was seeping into your carpet, but you were too alarmed to care. Any unexpected visitor was about to get a piece of your extensive broom combat skills. Perhaps this was why you had been feeling uneasy since moving here.

You stood on your toes and manoeuvred slowly, keeping your eyes peeled for any potential attackers. You noticed that the door was closed, and the melting snow was still there. The thought of the attacker having been in your house even before you cleared the snow made your stomach twist. Maybe this mountain town wasn’t so secluded and safe as you had originally thought.  
A small clink made your heart and body jump, and you began to swing the broomstick every which way. That didn’t accomplish much, you realised. It was only a sound, and no others were visible. You begun to wonder if it was only a figment of your imagination. You stood completely still, ready for your next cue to flail the broomstick.

You found the source of the clinking soon enough, and you approached cautiously. Behind your kitchen trash can, something was moving back and forth. You raised an eyebrow and pointed the broomstick as though it were a gun. Then you unceremoniously swatted the trash can away to reveal a small, shaking being. You were startled, to say the least, and wondered whether one of those forest creatures you liked to watch had somehow found its way inside your home. Erring on the side of caution, you prodded the white mass with the broomstick. It elicited a whimper and you jumped, embarrassingly. The creature, still shaking, turned to face you, and you were met with vacant eyes full of tears.  
It was a ghost. A real ghost. A ghost that looked too much like a silly caricature of a ghost to be real. They had round, glistening eyes, a rather goofy-looking nose, and a frown that seemed to be etched onto their face. You also noticed the hot chocolate on their face. Immediately, you felt bad for prodding them with force. They were clearly more afraid of you then you were of them, and you gave them a patient gaze, setting down the broomstick to show you weren’t there to hurt them. 

After a minute of clinking, the ghost mustered the courage to speak. 

“I’m sorry…I thought you wouldn’t mind if I took a sip and, oh…Oh no…I spilled your drink…oh…I’m sorry…so sorry…” Their voice was ethereal and piteous. Piteous enough to elicit a frown from you. The ghost seemed so innocent. You wondered how long they’d been haunting the house, and realised that _they_ were the source of the strange noises.

“It’s okay,” you said, “I’m not mad. Um…are you alright? I’m sorry for scaring you.” You were sure you had fumbled the words, but you were nervous as well. After all, not every ghost was friendly. Your mind filled with the horrors that the spirit could inflict on you. Then you looked at them again. They didn’t look like they were the type to drag people to hell. You exhaled, words stuck in your throat. You wanted to say more, but you felt as though you had said too much already.

The puffy ghost looked at you once more. Their tears had subsided some. 

“Oh…I’m okay…I guess. I just…it looked so good…the marshmallows…oh…” The somber spirit hid their face with their small arms. Your stomach clenched, and you weren’t sure why.

Butterflies, you realised soon after.

Maybe being haunted wasn’t always bad. You mentally shook your head at your own frivolity. It was possible to at least get along with the ghost without dying, you reasoned.

“What’s your name?” The words came on a whim. You felt an urge to know. 

“Napstablook…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I've been caught up in uni's evil web. I hope you enjoy nonetheless. ✩


	3. Chapter 3

Napstablook. Odd, yet charming. The name fit the one it belonged to. You crouched, wanting to get a better look at the timid spirit. Their body was neither opaque nor transparent; rather, it lied in between. You could see the wall through Napstablook’s body, but it was clouded by their form. 

You had never believed in ghosts, at least not in the traditional sense. Having been raised by humans after the war, you didn’t know much of monsters or monster lore. In fact, until the breaking of the barrier within your lifetime, you were a non-believer, thoroughly convinced that the monsters were some outlandish tale. It took all of one minute for your eyes to be opened.

Napstablook seemed frightened far more than you could manage to help with words, so you eased away. You stood to your feet, scanning your kitchen for anything you could offer the ghost to ease their fear. After all, as long as they didn’t cause problems, you couldn’t care less whether or not they took up residence in your small mountain cabin.

A half-eaten bar of chocolate was sitting on top of your refrigerator. You then realised you had a horrible habit of forgetting to finish your food. That could be dealt with later. You moved carefully, as though you had a tower of china dishes upon your head. You didn’t want to spook Napstablook any more than you had already. 

You still had to stand on your tiptoes to reach the top of the refrigerator, but you managed. You hoped the chocolate bar wasn’t spoiled, but then again, what did ghosts care? Food was food. How badly could you offend the sentient sheet with slightly expired chocolate?

You were about to find out. You removed the remaining chocolate from the wrapper and offered it to the wraith, smiling awkwardly. They hesitated, watching you warily, before they reached out their small, ghostly limbs and took the chocolate. Napstablook held it in their hands, eyeing it as if it were something alien to them. Perhaps ghosts had never experienced the delicious joys of chocolate? Visions of chocolate pie, hot chocolate, chocolate cake and every other chocolate confectionary clouded your mind, but you snapped yourself out of it…but not before vowing to yourself that you’d make a trip down the mountain to buy a chocolate cake.

You watched as the ghost ate the chocolate. The air of their hesitation still hung thick, but you hoped that you were able to quell their fear, if even just a bit. Since they were opaque, you were able to watch the chocolate travel down their body. It was a little creepy, and you hoped you weren’t violating some strange unspoken of monster custom.

The chocolate traveled a bit further, then disappeared before your eyes. Apprehensively, your eyes travelled up to meet Napstablook’s once more. 

They looked much less afraid then they had been before, to your relief. They hesitated, looking at you shyly.

“Um…thank you…” A small smile. That smile had to be the cutest thing you’d ever seen, and you felt your cheeks flush. You cleared your throat and scratched the back of your head, hoping they didn’t notice how flustered you were. They were just a ghost, after all, on the same level as a cute pet or something else undatable.

You didn’t suppose they’d like to share that chocolate pie with you, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Somewhere along the way, you and Napstablook became acquaintances. Mostly, they butted out of your business, but occasionally you’d hear a little ‘oh’ or a ‘hm’. It really didn’t bother you that a spirit had taken up residence in your home. Sometimes you left out a bit of hot chocolate for them to enjoy, and it made you smile that they always took it, although in time.

You primarily occupied yourself with your college courses, day in and day out. It wasn’t until your neighbour invited you over for dinner that you got a break in the monotony.

Well, neighbours was the more correct term. Your neighbour who often waved to you had a spouse who worked at the base of the mountain, and so you hadn’t seen them before. Nonetheless, Frisk and Chara were more than happy to welcome you to their home for an evening of relaxation. The winter wind brushed your cheeks as you made your way across the icy road to their home.

The married couple’s cabin was not unlike your own, but it had some modifications that made it a bit different. It wasn’t as high off the ground as yours, and they kept a coat rack near the door, in addition to a mat for snow-covered shoes and boots. You considered taking their idea, too. When you entered the cabin, a savory smell wafted up your nostrils, and you realised just how hungry you were.

Frisk was more quiet than you originally thought, so it was Chara who answered the door, and did most of the talking. They seemed friendly, yet reserved, but you didn’t concern yourself with that. They tended a pot of stew on the stove, while Frisk prepared hot tea.

The dinner was the aforementioned hearty stew with a side of veggies, homemade by the couple. After much conversation and joking, you were on your way, left with a container of leftover stew the couple had been gracious enough to give you. It had gotten dark, and the few lamp posts illuminated the icy walkway. You treaded carefully, yet in a hurry, wanting to get out of the blowing snow as quickly as you could. Snow was in your hair, on your eyelashes, and on most of your clothing, and it showed no signs of lessening.

When you arrived home quietly as always, you set the leftover stew in the refrigerator, changed into pyjamas, and found your place by the fireplace with a nice book. You had a habit of getting so engrossed in stories that you forgot all else, and before you knew it, it was three in the morning and you had read cover-to-cover. 

You stretched yourself with a yawn, feeling your eyelids grow heavier by the moment. Your bed was only feet away, and you collapsed into it with a sleepy sigh. You drifted into sleep within moments, feeling thoroughly relaxed. 

In this house, however, you could hardly ever sleep through the night. A noise awoke you a few hours later, and your groggy mind assumed it was just the wind again, until you realised it was coming from _within_. Specifically, within your closet. Your half-conscious brain wasn’t the best guide, and you stood up rather quickly, ready to fight off any intruder. You approached the door of your closet with what you thought was ninja-like stealth, but you stumbled backwards as a noise came from within. You wondered what horrors you would find if you opened it, but you did so nonetheless, fist on the ready.

The sight within made you feel so sorry. There, you found your ghastly housemate, their body inside one of your sweaters, and shaking a bit. Were they cold?

They probably were. Your befuddled mind saw nothing wrong with grabbing the sweater off the hanger, with the ghost still inside. The entirety of the sweater was cold, and you felt sorry for Napstablook again. Tonight was particularly chilly...

You placed the sheet ghost on your bed, pulling the blanket over them as gently as you could. You then trudged to the fireplace and turned it on, and plopped back into bed again. Half-asleep, you heard a faint voice, overcome with some emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Ah…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit short chapter, but I hope you like it.


End file.
